


we've got a good thing going

by inkquell



Category: Monsta X (Band), No.MERCY (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Married Life, This Is Sappy As Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkquell/pseuds/inkquell
Summary: It’s too hot for this probably, but Gunhee tugs Jooheon backwards against his chest. He brushes his lips against the bare shoulder peaking out from underneath Jooheon’s tank top, then places a kiss below his ear. “Need help?” Gunhee asks against his skin. Jooheon laughs. “You don’t need to seduce me, I was gonna ask anyways.” (Or, alternatively, Gunhee and Jooheon do married couple things, like build IKEA furniture on the hottest day of the summer.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/MonstaXmas/status/789145817437188097) because I couldn't resist.

Gunhee wakes up by himself on Saturday morning, stretching out and throwing a leg onto Jooheon’s side of the bed. He can hear him puttering away in the living room, maybe making coffee or something to eat. The radio is on in the kitchen. Gunhee gets out of bed, pulls on whatever clothes he can find, and follows the sound into the hallway.

It’s early enough, but already it’s growing hot and humid. The windows are wide open in invitation to what little breeze there is. They haven’t managed to figure out how their air conditioner works, or had a chance to ask their landlord yet. The otherwise sparse and unlived-in living room is cluttered by housewarming gifts from last night—multiple bottles of wine, a potted plant, hand towels, and a couple other things Gunhee isn’t sure they’ll find any use for.

Jooheon is sitting crosslegged in the middle of the floor, wearing only his boxers and a loose, white tank top. He flips through an instruction manual, probably for their uncooperative air conditioner. But then again maybe it has something to do with the mess Jooheon has made of their living room. A pile of cardboard boxes are stacked by the door. One cardboard box lays ripped open and tossed to the side. Pieces of furniture scatter across the floor—a tabletop, what looks like table legs, screws and nails sorted into piles by Jooheon’s knee. Gunhee recognizes it as the furniture they bought a few months ago, before they moved into their new place, before their wedding even.

Jooheon must not hear Gunhee open the door of their bedroom or pad down the hallway, too absorbed in whatever Motown record is playing on the kitchen radio. A young Michael Jackson croons about his girl and Jooheon half-mumbles, half-hums along.

In a moment of self-indulgence, Gunhee lets himself go unnoticed and drinks in the sight of him. His cheeks and chest are slightly flushed from the heat, and his boxers are bunched up around his thighs, revealing love bites and little red marks Gunhee left on his skin the night before.

“Good morning,” Gunhee says finally and Jooheon looks up from his manual. There’s a screwdriver in his lap.

He smiles as soon as he sees Gunhee, warm and bright like the stream of sun shining through the window. “Good morning,” he says.

Gunhee leans over to kiss the top of Jooheon’s head, briefly brushing his fingers through his disheveled, sleep mussed hair. “What are you doing, Jooheonie?”

Jooheon tosses the manual aside and taps the label on the side of the box. Along with some Swedish words Gunhee doesn’t understand, there’s a plainly drawn diagram of a table. “I keep tripping over these boxes in the hallway,” Jooheon says, his nose wrinkling, “and I don’t think our guests like eating dinner on the couch much.” He laughs. “It might be time for some home improvements.”

Jooheon sounds like one of those snobby couples from home renovation shows. Gunhee swallows down a laugh.

“Really?” he says. “It’s, like, 10 AM, babe.”

“Almost noon,” Jooheon corrects, beginning to flip through the instruction manual again.

Gunhee squints at the clock on the kitchen stove. “Why’d you let me sleep in so late?”

Jooheon rubs at the back of his neck. “Well, I was hoping I’d have this finished before then,” he says, then frowns. “I thought maybe it could be a surprise.”

Gunhee fiddles with his wedding band, twisting it back and forth underneath his knuckle. The ring feels foreign around his finger, even after two months. He never forgets about it—always remembering to slip it back on after showering or washing the dishes, tapping his finger against his desk at work and listening to the _clink_ , _clink_ , _clink_ just to remind himself that it’s there.

Gunhee plops himself down behind Jooheon—because everywhere else is otherwise occupied by boxes or parts of the dismantled table—and wraps his arms around his middle. It’s too hot for this probably, Jooheon’s skin is damp with perspiration, but Gunhee tugs him backwards so he’s leaning against his chest. He brushes his lips against the bare shoulder peaking out from underneath Jooheon’s tank top, then places a kiss below his ear.

“Need help?” Gunhee asks against his skin.

Jooheon laughs. “You don’t need to seduce me, I was gonna ask anyways.”

Jooheon abruptly gets to his feet and tosses the instruction book into Gunhee’s lap. “I’m going to see if I can get the AC working before we die of heatstroke.”

By the time Jooheon comes back, Gunhee is fastening the frame of the table onto the tabletop.

“Are you sure you’ve got this on right?” Jooheon asks, munching on a slice of toast slathered with strawberry jam. He slides the plate over to Gunhee who takes a piece, holding it between his teeth until he finishes screwing the left side of the frame tight in place. Afterwards, he takes a bite.

“I think so,” Gunhee says between chews. He reaches over to wipe a smear of jam from the corner of Jooheon’s mouth. Gunhee sucks it off his finger, tangy and sweet.

Jooheon smiles shyly, looking back down at his toast. Maybe it’s from the heat, but a faint blush spreads across the apples of his cheeks. They’ve known each other for almost half their lives, been dating for the better part of those years, and now they’re married with the promise of all that and more. Yet Jooheon still blushes like a schoolboy, and it never fails to erupt butterflies in Gunhee’s stomach.

Taking another look at the instruction manual, Jooheon grabs the screwdriver from beside Gunhee, tossing the crust of his toast back onto the plate.

“Why do you never eat your crust?” Gunhee asks, picking it up, inspecting it, then taking a bite. “It’s the best part.”

Jooheon grabs a handful of screws, lining one up with the bracket of the table frame. He begins twisting it in. “Because I don’t like it,” Jooheon says matter-of-factly.

Gunhee makes a point of popping the rest of the crust into his mouth and chewing slowly. “Good thing you have me then,” he says, wiping crumbs off the front of his t-shirt.

The floor of their apartment is nice and cool compared to the sweltering air. It’s too hot to move. Gunhee’s shirt sticks to his chest like cling wrap. He sprawls out on the floor, watching as Jooheon works the next couple screws in, bottom lip caught between his teeth in focus. It’s kinda hot, Gunhee admits. When the screw refuses to twist in, Jooheon sits back on his knees in frustration, running a hand through his hair, tugging on his bangs then letting them fall down onto his sweat slicked forehead.

“Why isn’t this one fitting?” Jooheon asks, staring down at the screwdriver in his hand. He tries again, swearing when the screwdriver slips and almost scratches the underside of the table.

“You need to change the bit for the smaller screws,” Gunhee says. He sits up and reaches behind Jooheon for the toolbox, sorts through it and passes the correct screwdriver bit to him. It clinks when Gunhee tosses it into Jooheon’s hand, hitting against Jooheon’s wedding band. It’s identical to Gunhee’s, silver and simple. Jooheon looks down at it, almost afraid that it’s been scratched. “Have you never used a screwdriver before?” Gunhee teases for good measure.

Jooheon smacks him lightly on the stomach. “Shut up.”

Gunhee hovers over him this time, holding the table steady as Jooheon twists the rest of the screws in with more ease than before. Gunhee’s chest presses into Jooheon’s back. Their shared body heat makes the hot weather even more unbearable. Gunhee tugs off his t-shirt and throws it across the living room and onto the couch.

“Is this a strip show?” Jooheon asks, reaching for one of the table legs after finally attaching the frame to the table top.

Gunhee snorts, grabbing the screwdriver from Jooheon to attach the legs. Jooheon watches intently, leaning over into Gunhee’s space, his chin resting on his shoulder.

Gunhee tries to give him instruction as he goes. “See, you have to get it in first, and then you want to press down while you’re twisting the screwdriver so the bit doesn’t slip.”

“Oh… I get it now.” 

Jooheon high-fives Gunhee as soon as the last screw goes in. “We make a good team,” he says, smiling wide.

Even something as little as Jooheon smiling at him makes Gunhee so fucking happy.

“We better.” Gunhee tugs him closer. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re kind of married.”

Jooheon chuckles. “Yeah, Gunhee, I’ve noticed. It’s not like you’d let me forget.”

Gunhee kisses him, sweet and slow. He takes his time like he never wants to do anything but this, because truthfully he doesn't. 

The last thing to do is turn the table right side up, which is easily done with two people. They carry it to the dining space behind the couch. Gunhee breaths a sigh of relief. He feels perspiration dripping down his spine and the sides of his face. A shower would be nice right about now.

Jooheon leans against the edge of the table, wiping sweat from the sides of his face with the back of his hand. By some miracle, the air conditioner is now humming noisily in the kitchen, blasting cool air through the vents. It’ll take a while to wick away the heat, but the sound of it working, at the very least, is almost equal to some sort of relief.

Gunhee adjusts the centring of the table in the middle of the room, then stands in front, facing Jooheon. He leans forward, his hands gripping the table on either side of Jooheon’s hips.

“Wanna test out how sturdy this thing is?” Gunhee asks, eyebrows raised from underneath his sweat dampened bangs.

It’s pretty sexy, Gunhee thinks, or at least it is until Jooheon makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat, something between a cough and a gag.

“You’re gross,” Jooheon says. He shoves Gunhee away with a hand against his chest, but he’s smiling, and then he’s laughing at Gunhee’s feigned disappointment. Jooheon knocks a knuckle against the top of the table. “We’re gonna eat on this thing, y’know. That’s kind of the whole point.”

Gunhee pouts. “I know, but—”

“Nuh-uh, I won’t be able to look my parents in the eye the next time we invite them over for dinner,” Jooheon says with a dimpled grin, absentmindedly carding his fingers through Gunhee’s hair. It sticks out at funny angles from behind his ears, just from the sheer humidity. “We have a bed for a reason, Gun-ah.”

Gunhee turns his head to look behind his shoulder. “But we haven’t built the bed yet,” he says.

Jooheon’s eyes follow Gunhee’s line of sight to the pile of boxes by the door, one of which contains the nails and screws and parts and pieces of a wooden bed frame. Jooheon’s face instantly falls. He groans, loud enough to drown out the noise of the AC.

Gunhee pulls him into a hug, locking his arms around the small of Jooheon’s back. His skin is hot and sticky, but it’s hard to care.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do it later,” Gunhee says. He presses a light kiss to Jooheon’s cheek. “Go have a cold shower or something.”

Jooheon lets his head drop to Gunhee’s shoulder. He sighs. “I can’t believe I’m married to you,” he mumbles.

“Do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?”

“A good way,” Jooheon says, then interlaces their hands. Gunhee traces Jooheon’s wedding band with his finger. “Always a good way.”

**Author's Note:**

> joogun is alive u guys


End file.
